Intended to make.

He drank slowly, watching her over the glass and she tightened her

nerves, trying to keep from trembling. For a time his face did not

change its expression but finally he laughed, still keeping his

eyes on her, and at the sound she could not still her shaking.

"It was an amusing comedy, this evening, wasn't it?"

She said nothing, curling her toes in the loose slippers in an

effort at controlling her quivering.

"A pleasant comedy with no character missing. The village assembled

to stone the erring woman, the wronged husband supporting his wife

as a gentleman should, the wronged wife stepping in with Christian

spirit and casting the garments of her spotless reputation over it

all. And the lover--"

"Please."

"I don't please. Not tonight. It's too amusing. And the lover

looking like a damned fool and wishing he were dead. How does it

feel, my dear, to have the woman you hate stand by you and cloak

your sins for you? Sit down."

She sat down.

"You don't like her any better for it, I imagine. You are

wondering if she knows all about you and Ashley--wondering why she

did this if she does know--if she just did it to save her own face.

And you are thinking she's a fool for doing it, even if it did save

your hide but--"

"I will not listen--"

"Yes, you will listen. And I'll tell you this to ease your worry.

Miss Melly is a fool but not the kind you think. It was obvious

that someone had told her but she didn't believe it. Even if she

saw, she wouldn't believe. There's too much honor in her to

conceive of dishonor in anyone she loves. I don't know what lie

Ashley Wilkes told her--but any clumsy one would do, for she loves

Ashley and she loves you. I'm sure I can't see why she loves you

but she does. Let that be one of your crosses."

"If you were not so drunk and insulting, I would explain

everything," said Scarlett, recovering some dignity. "But now--"

"I am not interested in your explanations. I know the truth better

than you do. By God, if you get up out of that chair just once

more--

"And what I find more amusing than even tonight's comedy is the

fact that while you have been so virtuously denying me the

pleasures of your bed because of my many sins, you have been

lusting in your heart after Ashley Wilkes. 'Lusting in your

heart.' That's a good phrase, isn't it? There are a number of

good phrases in that Book, aren't there?"

"What book? What book?" her mind ran on, foolishly, irrelevantly

as she cast frantic eyes about the room, noting how dully the

massive silver gleamed in the dim light, how frighteningly dark the

corners were.

"And I was cast out because my coarse ardors were too much for your

refinement--because you didn't want any more children. How bad

that made me feel, dear heart! How it cut me! So I went out and

found pleasant consolation and left you to your refinements. And

you spent that time tracking the long-suffering Mr. Wilkes. God

damn him, what ails him? He can't be faithful to his wife with his

mind or unfaithful with his body. Why doesn't he make up his mind?

You wouldn't object to having his children, would you--and passing

them off as mine?"

She sprang to her feet with a cry and he lunged from his seat,

laughing that soft laugh that made her blood cold. He pressed her

back into her chair with large brown hands and leaned over her.

"Observe my hands, my dear," he said, flexing them before her eyes.

"I could tear you to pieces with them with no trouble whatsoever

and I would do it if it would take Ashley out of your mind. But it

wouldn't. So I think I'll remove him from your mind forever, this

way. I'll put my hands, so, on each side of your head and I'll

smash your skull between them like a walnut and that will blot him

out."

His hands were on her head, under her flowing hair, caressing,

hard, turning her face up to his. She was looking into the face of

a stranger, a drunken drawling-voiced stranger. She had never

lacked animal courage and in the face of danger it flooded back

hotly into her veins, stiffening her spine, narrowing her eyes.

"You drunken fool," she said. "Take your hands off me."

To her surprise, he did so and seating himself on the edge of the

table he poured himself another drink.

"I have always admired your spirit, my dear. Never more than now

when you are cornered."

She drew her wrapper close about her body. Oh, if she could only

reach her room and turn the key in the stout door and be alone.

Somehow, she must stand him off, bully him into submission, this

Rhett she had never seen before. She rose without haste, though

her knees shook, tightened the wrapper across her hips and threw

back her hair from her face.

"I'm not cornered," she said cuttingly. "You'll never corner me,

Rhett Butler, or frighten me. You are nothing but a drunken beast

who's been with bad women so long that you can't understand

anything else but badness. You can't understand Ashley or me.

You've lived in dirt too long to know anything else. You are

jealous of something you can't understand. Good night."

She turned casually and started toward the door and a burst of

laughter stopped her. She turned and he swayed across the room

toward her. Name of God, if he would only stop that terrible

laugh! What was there to laugh about in all of this? As he came

toward her, she backed toward the door and found herself against

the wall. He put his hands heavily upon her and pinned her

shoulders to the wall.

"Stop laughing."

"I am laughing because I am so sorry for you."

"Sorry--for me? Be sorry for yourself."

"Yes, by God, I'm sorry for you, my dear, my pretty little fool.

That hurts, doesn't it? You can't stand either laughter or pity,

can you?"

He stopped laughing, leaning so heavily against her shoulders that

they ached. His face changed and he leaned so close to her that

the heavy whisky smell of his breath made her turn her head.

"Jealous, am I?" he said. "And why not? Oh, yes, I'm jealous of

Ashley Wilkes. Why not? Oh, don't try to talk and explain. I

know you've been physically faithful to me. Was that what you were

trying to say? Oh, I've known that all along. All these years.

How do I know? Oh, well, I know Ashley Wilkes and his breed. I

know he is honorable and a gentleman. And that, my dear, is more

than I can say for you--or for me, for that matter. We are not

gentlemen and we have no honor, have we? That's why we flourish

like green bay trees."

"Let me go. I won't stand here and be insulted."

"I'm not insulting you. I'm praising your physical virtue. And it

hasn't fooled me one bit. You think men are such fools, Scarlett.

It never pays to underestimate your opponent's strength and

intelligence. And I'm not a fool. Don't you suppose I know that

you've lain in my arms and pretended I was Ashley Wilkes?"

Her jaw dropped and fear and astonishment were written plainly in

her face.

"Pleasant thing, that. Rather ghostly, in fact. Like having three

in a bed where there ought to be just two." He shook her

shoulders, ever so slightly, hiccoughed and smiled mockingly.

"Oh, yes, you've been faithful to me because Ashley wouldn't have

you. But, hell, I wouldn't have grudged him your body. I know how

little bodies mean--especially women's bodies. But I do grudge him

your heart and your dear, hard, unscrupulous, stubborn mind. He

doesn't want your mind, the fool, and I don't want your body. I

can buy women cheap. But I do want your mind and your heart, and

I'll never have them, any more than you'll ever have Ashley's mind.

And that's why I'm sorry for you."

Even through her fear and bewilderment, his sneer stung.

"Sorry--for me?"

"Yes, sorry because you're such a child, Scarlett. A child crying

for the moon. What would a child do with the moon if it got it?

And what would you do with Ashley? Yes, I'm sorry for you--sorry

to see you throwing away happiness with both hands and reaching out

for something that would never make you happy. I'm sorry because

you are such a fool you don't know there can't ever be happiness

except when like mates like. If I were dead, if Miss Melly were

dead and you had your precious honorable lover, do you think you'd

be happy with him? Hell, no! You would never know him, never know

what he was thinking about, never understand him any more than you

understand music and poetry and books or anything that isn't

dollars and cents. Whereas, we, dear wife of my bosom, could have

been perfectly happy if you had ever given us half a chance, for we

are so much alike. We are both scoundrels, Scarlett, and nothing

is beyond us when we want something. We could have been happy, for

I loved you and I know you, Scarlett, down to your bones, in a way

that Ashley could never know you. And he would despise you if he

did know. . . . But no, you must go mooning all your life after a

man you cannot understand. And I, my darling, will continue to

moon after whores. And, I dare say we'll do better than most

couples."

He released her abruptly and made a weaving way back toward the

decanter. For a moment, Scarlett stood rooted, thoughts tearing in

and out of her mind so swiftly that she could seize none of them

long enough to examine them. Rhett had said he loved her. Did he

mean it? Or was he merely drunk? Or was this one of his horrible

jokes? And Ashley--the moon--crying for the moon. She ran swiftly

into the dark hall, fleeing as though demons were upon her. Oh, if

she could only reach her room! She turned her ankle and the slipper

fell half off. As she stopped to kick it loose frantically, Rhett,

running lightly as an Indian, was beside her in the dark. His

breath was not on her face and his hands went round her roughly,

under the wrapper, against her bare skin.

"You turned me out on the town while you chased him. By God, this

is one night when there are only going to be two in my bed."

He swung her off her feet into his arms and started up the stairs.

Her head was crushed against his chest and she heard the hard

hammering of his heart beneath her ears. He hurt her and she cried

out, muffled, frightened. Up the stairs he went in the utter

darkness, up, up, and she was wild with fear. He was a mad

stranger and this was a black darkness she did not know, darker

than death. He was like death, carrying her away in arms that

hurt. She screamed, stifled against him and he stopped suddenly on

the landing and, turning her swiftly in his arms, bent over and

kissed her with a savagery and a completeness that wiped out

everything from her mind but the dark into which she was sinking

and the lips on hers. He was shaking, as though he stood in a

strong wind, and his lips, traveling from her mouth downward to

where the wrapper had fallen from her body, fell on her soft flesh.

He was muttering things she did not hear, his lips were evoking

feelings never felt before. She was darkness and he was darkness

and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness

and his lips upon her. She tried to speak and his mouth was over

hers again. Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never

known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were

too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast. For the

first time in her life she had met someone, something stronger than

she, someone she could neither bully nor break, someone who was

bullying and breaking her. Somehow, her arms were around his neck

and her lips trembling beneath his and they were going up, up into

the darkness again, a darkness that was soft and swirling and all

enveloping.

When she awoke the next morning, he was gone and had it not been

for the rumpled pillow beside her, she would have thought the

happenings of the night before a wild preposterous dream. She went

crimson at the memory and, pulling the bed covers up about her

neck, lay bathed in sunlight, trying to sort out the jumbled